


Public Escort

by wickedrum



Category: Wiedźmin | The Witcher - All Media Types
Genre: Anal Plug, Multi, Poisoning, Threesome - F/M/M, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-09-10
Packaged: 2021-03-05 04:02:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25318012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wickedrum/pseuds/wickedrum
Summary: Set: Showverse, a few months after ep106. Still angry with Geralt, Jaskier has no wishes to meet him again. Fate has other ideas.
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia & Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 18
Kudos: 60





	1. Blunt Awakening

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimers: What, me? I barely own my knickers. 
> 
> Pairing: Geralt/Jaskier friendship.
> 
> Note: I think my Geralt is somewhere between Netflix and book!Geralt.

Given that Geralt would normally avoid big cities and disliked teeming market towns, Jaskier thought Vizima would be safe to spend some nights in without the possibility of bumping into the Witcher. The city’s many inns and shops also gave the chance for earning a good coin or a dozen each time with a performance, so the bard did not hesitate to head into the largest of the place’s inn, The Shaggy Bear. Still, it was a little surprising when the waitress clearly brightened at noticing him, then rushed away behind the bar somewhere, only for the owner, Griffarin to meet him by the time he got to the counter, “are you the bard who sings about the Witcher?” The innkeeper Jaskier knew was a war veteran couldn’t be any more direct. 

“Indeed. Jaskier, at your service. I could sing about other things too, whenever you think it would be most pleasing for your customers. Some don’t want to hear about Witchers, you know,” the poet tried to steer clear of his least favourite topic to trill of at the moment, “and I would like a broth beforehand if it’s not too much to ask. I’ve missed cooked food and the indoors.”

“Thank Melitele you’re here! Come with me,” the man ignored his monologue, grabbed him by the doublet and pulled him round the bar, “follow me,” he led the confused troubadour into a hall and then into a small room to the left. 

“Oh..uhm,” Jaskier stepped in reluctantly, not sure what the man could have wanted. The kind of thing only happened when he was in a town where he was well revered and Griffarin didn’t seem the kind of person who would appreciate the singing of praises of another warrior, past or present. 

“We don’t know what to do with him,” the man stood aside to reveal the form of a well built individual with a head of tousled white hair, lying on a low bed. “He’s rarely conscious. We couldn’t even take him up to the room he’d paid for, not to mention that was supposed to be for one night only and that was last week. Somebody needs to pay for his board and medicine.”

“And you reckon that should be me,” the minstrel sighed his realisation and paled with the implications of all the above. 

“Eight nights plus twentyone oren for the apothecary’s brew. We only bought it the once because he spews everything up anyway,” Griffarin stood closer in a manner suggestive of him expecting payment on the spot. 

“Alright, this is what I have. You’re lucky as it should cover most of that you ask,” Jaskier handed him the pouch without any more hesitation, “but for the rest you will have to let me perform in the inn.”

“Aye, just get him well and out of here as soon as possible,” the innkeeper nodded towards the invalid.

“Can you help me out here first? You need to tell me, what happened to him?” 

“Some skirmish with the Scoia'tael that Velerad wanted. I believe they poisoned him instead. The burgomeister wasn’t happy, I’ll tell you that much.”

“Hm. With what did they poison him?” 

Griffarin shrugged, “that’s your problem to figure out,” he went back to his barkeep duties. 

“Well, what am I supposed to do with you now?’ Jaskier felt like crying when he approached the Witcher. Firstly, why was it that he was simply assumed to be helping and secondly, how was he to start that. The poet sat on the bed and slowly reached out to cup Geralt’s face. It was too warm, that was clear and there was no reaction when he patted it. “Fuck.” He needed something to work with, some little information at least and for that, he needed the trained warrior awake so Jaskier slapped the Witcher with determination, hoping for some effect this time. 

Geralt merely gave an intermittent moan, hands fisting shakily. Jaskier could have tortured him further, hoping for more of a reaction next time, but then the reluctant years spent in a mage’s company would have really been a waste. Lamb chops. It was advertised outside that the inn sold lamb chops for dinner tonight and judging by the time, they would be at the initial phase of its preparation. “Where is your kitchen?” The bard grabbed the first waitress he could find. 

A startled cook and complaining maids stood out the way of the madman as he grabbed the sheep carcass and located the kidneys with a few slices of his dagger. The adrenal glands were right above and now all he needed was a good potion base that would do the work itself. “Do you have mandrake cordial or some wormwood spirit?” 

“Give him what he needs, but open a tab,” the owner of the inn advised, having come to the back to see what the commotion was all about. 

“Only Zerricanian spirit,” the cook unlocked a cupboard to reveal a fat bottle.

“It will have to do,” Jaskier overtook the use of a pan with boiling water he put both ingredients in. He grabbed a cup too and then he was out of there, hoping to wake the Witcher with his concoction to ask for further instructions. 

Tbc


	2. Tandemland

Chapter 2: Tandemland

Jaskier felt guilty even so. He had not resorted to any brutal ways of rousing the Witcher and yet the simple action of moving his head to raise the new concoction to his lips felt like an intrusion to Jaskier. In further distress, the Witcher coughed when the liquid hit his throat, leaving him breathless and the motion causing him agony judging by the weakly flailing and the creased forehead. It was the probably pain that roused him as well, more than the strengthening brew because of that he didn’t take much and yet he turned to his side with a seizing motion and his eyes desperately searched for relief from the suffering. “Hey, hey,” the poet tried to soothe, “I’m so sorry Geralt, what can I do?” The bard didn’t dare to touch him, fearing causing him more pain, “this doesn’t look like your usual. It’s taking way too long for you to heal, you know that?” 

“Yen..” Geralt muttered. 

“Yennefer? I don’t know where she is, or how to get in contact with her. So we really need to think of other ways of helping you.” The troubadour tried to convince him. 

“No. Yen. I know they don’t understand,” Geralt tried to reach a small, red ornate box on the bedside table.

“What? You want this? Is that it?” Jaskier hoped there would be a potion inside it, but it was empty.

“Write it.”

“Hm?” The minstrel pushed his bonnet back in confusion, “you know I’m never against writing, but what for this time?”

“Write now,” Geralt patted the pocket where he knew the poet kept his notebook. 

“I’m so not writing wills or good bye letters for you. I want to help get you better, so not that, never,” the bard acted scandalised.

“Write, write,” the grey wolf repeated breathlessly and this time, Jaskier judged that maybe he should before the monster hunter ran out of puff or energy. 

The troubadour was used to quick work when an idea occurred to him that he needed to write down not to forget, so before long, he had the feather poised and ready over the paper. “What am I writing then, huh?” 

“To Yen.”

“Dear Yennefer, love of my life,” Jaskier translated the romance into ink, “but I’m pretty sure she already knows you love her.”

“Help me.”

“Do you have an idea for treatment? I’ll get to it as soon as you can tell me.’ The poet brightened.

“Write. Just help.”

“Oh. Do you know an address I can send the letter to? You know where the sorceress is?” Jaskier scored over the ‘love of my life’ part, “Geralt has been poisoned, we don’t know what to do but to pray that you do. Please come as soon as possible. Does that sound alright,” he signed it as Master Jaskier, just to sound more serious.

“Put it in there,” Geralt raised the box.

“We’ll send it in that?” The composer was a little confused, but complied with the request. “What now?” He started to say but then the box jumped in his hand and he felt something like a small explosion happening inside. “What the..” He opened the container to find the letter gone, “oh, wow! What just happened?” 

A moment later, a portal was already opening by the wall and a scarcely clad Yennefer walked through with her hair wet. “What is going on here?” She assessed the situation at hand. 

“No idea really, I just arrived and was thrust into the situation myself by strangers to be honest,” Jaskier held. 

Yennefer reached for the invalid swiftly, worried by the way his breathing halted, making him unable to speak. She put a hand on his forehead, lingering longer than she would have had to if she was merely checking his temperature. “No, no, no, Jaskier, what did you do, he’s nearly dying!”

“I didn’t do anything, all I know is that it was poison, but I don’t know what or how! Can’t you detect?”

“He is in immense pain.” It was as if Yennefer shook with it herself before she moved her hand to his abdomen and seemingly went into a trance, eyes unseeing her surroundings as she concentrated. 

Settling for the long run, Jaskier was surprised when the mage suddenly opened her eyes for a moment to let him know after her assessment, “it’s alright, I can still remedy this.” Her shaking hands, abrupt movements and watering eyes did nothing however to convince the bard of the truth in her words. “Fine,” she seemed to be spurring herself on, “alright. The poison did not reach his heart. He’s got a good Witcher build, trying to get rid of it through the digestive system.”

“Hey, so all that puking, that was actually good?”

“Yes, and we want him to do that some more.”

“Are you sure? It’s madness. Frankly, he’s pretty dehydrated already by the looks of it.”

“His Witcher constitution will work through it, he’s lost more fluids than this at other times. He will be alright. Can you come here, please help.”

“Right. So what do you need?” Jaskier was eager to be useful. 

“Turn him to his side,” Yennefer helped him along with it, “and hold him in that position, I don’t want him to choke.”

“Dammit, choke? Why?”

“Going for the aggressive approach,” the sorceress warned, “more purging urgently necessary.” She only gave Jaskier a moment to realise what she was planning and move his feet out the way for Yennefer to call forth for her powers, making Geralt forcefully retch some green liquid out of his stomach. 

Panicked and discomfited, Jaskier held on tightly, effectively holding the Witcher up from ending up on the ground with his violent seizing. “Yennefer, how long will this have to go on?” He felt for his friend. 

“Just trust me for a moment.” It didn’t seem like the mage dismissed him, it looked like she felt the same, not wanting to prolong Geralt’s suffering any longer than strictly necessary. 

“I’m so sorry, Geralt,” the bard whispered, attempting to comfort the invalid whether he could hear him or not. “What now?”

“It’s alright, don’t worry,” Yennefer prompted the move of turning the patient back fully onto the bed, “now let me take care of him,” she looked in the direction of the door, her intentions for the poet clear, “I will send word of his condition to your quarters on every turn of the hourglass, I promise. This will be no sight for a ‘friend’. Go, let me work, I need the space.”

Tbc


	3. Snuggle Buddy

Chapter 3: Snuggle Buddies

Jaskier didn’t quite expect Yennefer to keep her promises as strictly as she had been, sending a maid to his room almost like clockwork all the way throughout the day, and night, even if the messenger had to wake him up to keep him in the loop. So it was only after he shook himself awake and suddenly found the sun high above in the sky that he started to worry as last time he was woken it was still pitch black out. He pulled on his boots quickly to run to the other room and found Yennefer passed out on the floor next to the bed, Geralt still unconscious and not stirring at the noise, but maybe his colour was more normal. Jaskier lunged forward and knelt to shake the mage’s shoulders, “come around! Do you plan to make me worry for you too. Frankly speaking, that would be too bizarre,” he whispered, half to himself.

Yennefer frowned, then sat up with a jolt, making Jaskier pull back and fall on his back side, “shit. By the Gods!” 

“What? What happened here?” They said briskly and pointedly at the same time.

“You tell me,” Jaskier gathered himself and straightened, hesitating as he held out a hand, “are you alright? Maybe it would help a great deal if you stayed down there for a bit?” He chimed helpfully and good-naturedly.

Yennefer shook her head, but leaned on heavily on Jaskier as he helped her up, only till the bed where the sorceress dropped herself on its edge, “I can do this.”

The singer wasn’t sure if she was speaking to herself or him, but it earned her some more concern, “mm, in my opinion, if it matters at all, I don’t think you should try this hard, you already look as ill as Geralt is,” he said with a grimace, “understand?”

“Yes, thank you for the compliment,” she agreed without any swithering, “and just so you’re aware, I can’t draw any more power from the Chaos today so there’s no point in you telling me not to do it.” 

“Ye Gods, you can’t draw any more power today?” The troubadour snapped. The implications of that were far reaching and branching off in every direction in Jaskier’s mind. This would not be a great ballad to write.

“No. But I can do this,” she climbed higher, snuggling in under Geralt’s arm, “my inherent magic will keep him alive and comfortable till my powers can recharge,” she explained with bright eyes. 

“Are you sure you can?” The troubadour wailed as he was skeptical of her seemingly put up front, “I’m confused and it gives me the creeps. Why the hell did they get me mixed up in this.”

Yennefer sighed, “I’m too tired to explain magic one-0-one to you. However as you can tell, it took more effort to get him through to the other side than I had anticipated as I had to regrow some of his liquified internal organs. It is also not a quick fix so from what I know, he will likely convalesce for a few days at least and will have to take it easy for a while after that as well.”

“Hm. But when does Geralt take it easy at all? Please, don’t jest,” he fisted his hands anxiously.

“Well, that’s a problem for another day. And more precisely, your problem. I’ll need my rest too.” 

“Indeed, that’s all fine, and thank you, truly, but do you bloody seriously expect me to have enough coins for all this?” He looked scandalised, with a mock astonishment.

“Will be easily dealt with once I can use my magic again. Though I have other priorities. Intending to find and punish those who dared to harm my property,” she narrowed her eyes.

“Geralt is your property? I thought you have denounced him for good for that last genie wish he made. Well, I never..”

“Either way, he’s still mine to do with whatever I wish, bard,” Yennefer sounded rather possessive. 

Jaskier shook his head, miffed, “what do you need me for then dammit?” Jaskier bowed with an overemphasising gesture, “I really don’t understand you.”

“Give me a blanket. I need to sleep now.”

“Hell no. There are plenty here, aren’t there? Don’t you want to snuggle in under there with your dear beloved?” Jaskier called, not exactly not jealous when considering that fact. Some ladies considered him Unparalleled after all.

“No. He can’t be disturbed. If we wake him before he’s healed, the spell might not take.”

Jaskier sighed, rubbing a hand against his forehead tiredly, “oh mother! Just a moment then, I’ll go get you mine from the other room just now.” Everything for the wonder who would save his beloved’s life. 

“Jask?” Yennefer held him back, “I put up a protection spell a few feet around us in case those who wanted to harm Geralt would come for him again. Please, stay inside it,” she invited him to join them on the bed by patting it, “I will snuggle with you under your blanket if you want.”

Tbc


	4. Flash Flood

Chapter 4: Flash Flood

Jaskier lay on the bed on his belly, letting Yennefer use him for body heat if she needed it, but he had his notebook in front of him to scribble in, trying his hand at romantic poetry looking at the two of them, but putting his own feelings to it. He was startled out of his musings by realising that Yennefer was also staring at him from under her thick lashes. “I’m not sure I like the mancing look there,” he commented, trying to cover up how he started. 

“I’m just thinking of how I’m going to make everyone pay for what they’ve done to Gerl.”

“And I belong to those people somehow?” Jaskier squirmed. Yennefer needn’t even ever cast a glance on him to make him uncomfortable and intimidated. 

“No, but you belong to those people who lied.”

“Doesn’t everyone at one time or another.”

“Maybe, but usually not about their entire existence.”

“Will you make them pay?” Jaskier wanted no part in a conversation about himself and his nature, “was it poison? What was the poison?” He tried to ask enough questions to derail Yennefer’s previous train of thought. 

“I didn’t figure that part out. It didn’t matter because that’s not how I healed him. I healed him by transferring some of your future living years to his lifespan.”

While that would have made any man panic, Jaskier wasn’t sure if it would be viable at all to keep up appearances at this point. “How many years did you take off?” His question was half hearted. 

“Mathematics is not my forte but if you take infinity away from infinity, how much do you get?” Ebony haired Yennefer’s answer came with an eyeroll. 

“When did you figure it out? And how?”

“That you don’t age? It is pretty obvious, but definitively, it was when I mentioned crow’s feet on the dragon hunt and you pretended you had some. I still don’t know what you are though.”

Jaskier sighed. “I’m a simple bzhadzhiy.”

“I read of some silly names of supposed creatures in books. I can't remember all of them,” Yennefer excused her ignorance on the subject, “because I couldn’t take them all seriously. It wasn’t really what I was interested in.”

“It means that my mother became a vampire while she was expecting. I’m told it wasn’t pretty.”

“So why did you make me protect you for decades?” Geralt’s muttered words sounded affronted as he woke.

“I can die of harm just fine,” Jaskier was jumpy, “I just don’t age. See? Indeed, this is the reaction I was trying to avoid!”

“Shut up, bard!” Yennefer leaned over her lover to fuss over him, touching his chest, “how is the pain?”

Geralt pulled himself up on the pillow with a grunt, “it’s not too bad,” he suppressed a wince, “I feel like I’m actually in this world for a change as opposed to hell.”

“Do you think you could eat?” Yennefer resembled a mother hen, “you need to eat because I don’t think either of us can afford any more transfer of life force. Jaskier, can you find us something? I should not waste any energy of conjuring food up either. Just get something bland and easy on the stomach.”

Jaskier nodded, but found he was lightheaded himself as he stood. “What exactly did you do to me?” He held on to the bedframe. 

“Well, you might need to eat too, maybe like a lot,” Yennefer’s eyes took on a mischievous glint as she looked at the poet. 

“Will he be alright to go?” Geralt held out a hand too to steady his friend, seeing him getting paler. 

“Well, one of us has to go,” the sorceress sulked. 

“I’m fine really,” Jaskier found that the fog was clearing even if he felt shaky. He couldn’t help the smile cross his face at the Witcher’s concern. “Our proper invalid will surely like some ale too.”

“Which bit of easy on the stomach did you not understand,” Yennefer scoffed, “you’re not getting him drunk for a few days.”

“But why does my throat hurt?” Geralt indicated his wish to soothe his parched and burning gullet, shaking his head minutely. 

“That would be from all the necessary vomiting. Some warm soup should help that too,” the raven haired sorceress suggested to the departing bard. 

“It’s not fair. None of this is fair,” Jaskier complained as he went, “maybe toss a coin at your bard once in a while. It’s not like I don’t turn my whole life upside down for you.” Of course, his fuming was habitual and for the sake of getting rid of some of the frustration of being the third wheel in their arrangement, and not a result of actual antagonism. 

Tbc


	5. Picnic Grounds

Chapter 5: Picnic Grounds

“Take deep breaths, you,” Yennefer reminded Geralt of how to counter his nausea after she and Jaskier helped the Witcher sit up. The beorn moaned his discomfort before complying, then moaned again in relief as the nausea settled once he had stopped moving. 

“Relax your muscles as well,” Yennefer advised further with her hand on his abdomen, “it’s not like tightening up like this will make your stomach any more settled.”

“Why don’t you tell that straight to this adl in my stomach?” Geralt grumbled. 

“Eat soup?” The sorceress gestured to the steaming bowl in Jaskier’s hands, “it’s béan and lentil, but not very thick at all.”

“For once it is an advantage the innkeeper having watered it down,” the bard also recommended the dish, holding the spoon closer for Geralt’s use, “should I feed him maybe?” He looked at the sorceress for instructions. 

“I’m right here and I can do it myself,” the Witcher looked affronted that anybody would assume he can’t feed himself and held his hand out for the bowl. Yennefer grinned at the circumstances leading to Geralt being cajoled into eating, not completely intentional on Jaskier’s part as they were. Her enthusiasm waned as quickly as it came though because first the bard had to steady Geralt’s hand so he wouldn’t spill his food and then the Witcher groaned as soon as the steam reached his nostrils.

“What is it? Does the smell make your qualms worse?” Yennefer of Vengerberg frowned.

“Look, it’s just..what kind of broth cannot be smelt? Is it that thin?”

“Oh, no. I think your senses are still incapacitated. Not to worry, they will come back. What’s that pout? Don’t be a child, just eat at least.”

But Geralt moaned again at the first swallow. “What is wrong now?” The ebony haired witch had never been highly stocked on patience, regardless of who it was about. 

“No, I mean the hot liquid did feet good going down my sore throat. Uhm, but why is it raw again?”

“Ask your girlfriend. So the story goes that it was imperative that she had to make you puke violently and repeatedly,” Jaskier explained. 

“Hmm,” Geralt raised a few spoonfuls to his lips with shaking hands, “would you two cease staring at me constantly?” He straightened up a little to appear more in control. 

Jaskier handed Yennefer another bowl instead, wondering how strange the whole situation was, but that was all it took for Geralt to give his own soup back to him, “fuck, it’s too much. Makes me crapulous.”

The bard frowned, but Yennefer nodded at him to take it, “his appetite will come back later, not to get in a flap, there’s nothing wrong.” 

Geralt leaned his head back, taking a deep breath, “it’s just that I don’t want to puke any more. I’ve had a full measure of that.”

“There’s a spell to stop that as well..” Yennefer mumbled.

“Stop that? Is that advisable? Didn’t you say you can’t access the Chaos this day no more?” Jaskier was more alert than both of them. 

“That’s right, I can’t, not without damage. Which is the reason that you will.”

“What do you insinuate??”

“It is time you started learning to use your supernatural heritage, bardling.”

“What are you on about??” Jaskier was no less taken aback than before. 

“You’re not a powerful Source, but you have magic, more than what is inherent in a Witcher for sure.” 

“I know that, but I have never used it or as much as felt it, no matter how much I tried. I know I can summon akin creatures such as vampires, but we don’t want to do that!”

“You must have had the wrong tutor,” Yennefer supposed, “ending up not being able to do anything.” 

“Why, no tutor you mean.”

“Well then, no wonder you can’t do it. Pay attention to me now. It is true that practitioners of the bealucræft must master vast artistic techniques and a complicated corpus of knowledge. We don’t have time for that, but you could maybe use a simple spell. The Power used to cast spells is drawn from the elements. Fire is the best, we can use that, there’s fire right there. Everything depends on the person that uses that Power of course so this candle’s flame is probably enough for you. Maybe a protection spell is not too hard? Just to tide us over. Come on, do it!” She handed him the candle over.

Jaskier held it away from himself with a frown, “to prove that I can’t? You are just trying to have a laugh at my expense.”

“Why would I do that? I can laugh at you any time, there’s no need for excuses.”

“That is true,” he looked uncertainly at Geralt, but the Witcher seemed out of it again. “You know what? I’ll let you embarrass me for his sake if that is the plan, it’s not like it is the first time.”

“Good, that might work. Now you need to visualize the goal. Just seek a moment of stillness and peace. Using some incense or essential oils as an enabler would be better for a beginner, but I don’t have any as I never needed it.”

“Lilac and gooseberry makes me nervous,” Jaskier warned against using her perfume, “but I carry cinnamon, balsminte and hyacinth for myself.”

“Hyacinth! That’s ideal!” Yennefer was already attacking the bard’s bag for it, starting to spill the oil around them, “it brings peace of mind. It is a very relaxing oil.”

“Hey, hey, you just wasted all of it! Do you know how much that amount cost me?”

“Sush now. You need to unwind, look into the candle light and relax. Your mind should be empty and ready to center in on your goal. The goal is to protect Geralt. Visualize spreading a powerful bright light all over him. Beginners should write the goal down too. Come on, write it down so you remember amongst other things: I’m willing Geralt better. 

Darkness cannot find him

Evil cannot harm him. Keep repeating it with the visualisation till it works.”

“How do I know if it is working?”

“You’ll know. I’m going to sleep,” she settled, “just keep at it in the meantime.”

“You’re kidding me. You’re leaving me all alone with it? What if I can’t do anything?”

“Mumpsimus! You will, trust me. And it’s boring watching a novice,” Yennefer showed no more interest, “it’s just how I feel,” she shrugged, “and no expergefactors while I sleep whatever happens, you hear me?”

Tbc


	6. Canopy Drive

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pure smut.

Chapter 6: Canopy Drive

Easing himself out from between Yennefer and Jaskier, Geralt sat up to test his body’s limits. Cautiously, he leaned against the headboard, but nausea did not assault him and neither did his stomach twist up inside like it had been doing previously any time he’d try to move. The only discomfort was a raw throat, but he’d already been told before that had been a result of his violent vomiting. All in all, he could possibly take on a monster, if it was one of the smaller kinds. His bedfellows however seemed exhausted. Geralt thought it wise to pry the candle out of the sleeping Jaskier’s hands, just in case it set the bed on fire. At a loss, he pulled the covers onto both of them, to make Yen and the bard more comfortable. The sorceress stirred to smile at him, but fatigue pulled her heavy eyelids back down as soon as he kissed her gently. She was content with it though, as long as Geralt lived. He didn’t leave it at that however. Showing his new vigour and yearning, he moved to kiss her face, her jawline, her neck, her shoulders and no matter how much sleep was calling to her, the sensations his lips elicited were awakening. Yennefer purred contently.

“You’re amazing. I love you,” Geralt towered over her with his seriousness, “let me love you, that’s all I ask. You see, you don’t need to love me back, not if you’re not certain it’s genuine.”

“And you’re such an idiot,” the sorceress opened her eyes to complain, “why would you think we saved you.”

Geralt smoothed his hand down the side of her form with an uncertain expression. He simply never knew anything for certain with Yen. “But it’s alright. How are you feeling otherwise, handsome?” Yennefer was now awake enough to start thinking. 

“Good. And thank you for that.”

“Thank Jaskier,” she admitted reluctantly with a frown. “You were too far gone. If not for him, I wouldn’t have been able to save you on my own.”

“But how do I thank him.” Geralt’s question was deeply contemplative as he furrowed his brows. There always had been a major imbalance in their relationship and for the first time, he felt guilty about it.

“Don’t be an arse,” the raven haired sorceress suggested, “and you can also thank us by enjoying life for once.”

“Oh, I know how to do just that,” he grabbed hold of her curvy buttocks, pulling her against him for squeeze. 

“If you haven’t noticed, Jaskier is here in the bed with us right now,” she frowned in indication of her disapproval of Geralt’s actions.

“So you don’t really want me to undress you?” The Witcher didn’t let go of his feisty sorceress. 

Yennefer pushed at his chest, “I’d only like you to be considerate for once in your life. How many times did he watch us having sex. Do you even know?”

“What about that? It doesn’t usually bother you when you even notice,” Geralt was a little confused. 

The woman shrugged, “magic induced exhaustion makes me sentimental, maybe that’s it. Either way, he has suffered enough by being ignored by you for decades.”

“I will apologise when he wakes,” the Witcher was dry, but earnest.

“That’s not enough if you’re continuing with the same behaviour afterwards.”

“Alright, but you’ve forgotten that there’s a part of me that needs attention too,” Geralt indicated the bulge in his pants with a look towards it. 

Yennefer licked her lips but still nodded her head discreetly towards Jaskier’s same area. “No way,” the warrior indicated his surprise with widening eyes. The bard’s breeches were just as filled as his, if not more. 

Giving him away, Jaskier’s face also turned red, “uhm, I happen to be awake..” He moved his hands to cover his erection, “I’ve been for a while.” Along with my snake.

“You don’t actually mind watching us, do you?” Yennefer voiced her realisation, “you live for it in fact.” She placed her hand teasingly on his knee and slid her fingers up towards the bulge.

“Yen?” Geralt was uncertain of the turn of events, “tell me what you genuinely want.” He wanted that dealt with as soon as possible, for all their sakes.

“But you’d like participating more,” the sorceress continued talking to the troubadour, grabbing hold of Jaskier’s appendage through his breeches, “am I right, bardling?”

“Don’t wind him up, there’s no sense in it.” Even Geralt knew that would have been too hurtful.

Jaskier swallowed nervously, but it was more out of trying to control his desires than anything else. “I’m not winding him up. It is well time you expressed your gratitude in ways he’d properly appreciate,” Yennefer pulled up sensually to cover the bard with her body, “you do swing both ways, don’t you,” she caressed the minstrel’s cheek fleetingly, enticingly, tracing his lips.

“What are you doing?” Geralt sounded jealous of his potential playmates and annoyed this time. 

“Relax, Sunshine,” she pushed the Witcher back, “it will be beneficial on the long run, for all our magic essences to mix, for instance. You don’t want me to stop, do you?” She directed her question at Jaskier.

The bard looked at Geralt for clues. Of course, there was nothing he wanted more than being included in whatever those two were doing, especially if it was sex, but he didn not want to make it any more awkward between them later than it already was. Yennefer however, was not known for her patience and took to grabbing both their cocks. Jaskier made a choking sound, “I thought you weren’t into me. Quite the opposite. I thought we were supposed to be enemies or rivals at least.”

“So? When am I ever against having some red hot fun?” She countered. 

“And Geralt would always follow your lead and all your wishes if he at all can,” the bard guessed. 

“Yes, indeed, when does he not?” Sassy Yennefer moved to undo both their strings on their breeches, a hand each. 

“Mmm, better,” Geralt purred, no longer feeling like having any more objections to the threesome. As if competing and fighting for attention, their lengths popped out, keeping both her hands occupied and bursting with sensation. She leaned close, tasting them on turn with an agonisingly slow lick each that made the men desperately want more. Acting on habit, Geralt grabbed for her, but he was pushed back again.

“This is for the bard foremost, not for us, remember,” she whispered in his ear as she made him lean back, hand firmly against his chest. 

“So what am I supposed to do now?” Geralt didn’t seem to have bedded men often in his time, and most of that a long time ago during his Witcher training too.

“Simply service him like you would service yourself, it shouldn’t be much different,” she placed one of the Witcher’s hands on her breasts seductively and the other on Jaskier’s cock. The bard was surprised himself that instead of shrinking back in embarrassment, his shaft vibrated against the fingers closing around it, even more desperate for attention than he had been himself for many years. Jaskier had no intentions to close his eyes at any point, he had dreamt of this moment so many times and now he wanted to see it as it happened. 

“But neither of you dare spill your seeds till I let you!” Yennefer’s eyes were wide open as she marvelled at the well sizeable cocks straining in unison. She eyed them like prey, having to keep herself from bouncing on them. Ultimately she spontaneously decided that the Witcher’s cock might feel neglected and she mirrored Geralt’s actions on Jaskier’s phallus by wrapping a hand around it and working it hard, up and down. She had no idea which one of them let out a whimper, but Jaskier was squirming, possibly having trouble following her previous instruction of holding back. Geralt however changed speed immediately, driving him crazy with slowing down, but keeping him from spilling out prematurely. 

“I believe he’ll want to ride you,” Yennefer directed again in a self-assured manner, putting a hand behind Geralt and surprising him by sliding a finger into his hole playfully. The Witcher tensed, but the way she slid her finger to press against his prostate, it was clear she was experienced at it and she didn’t make it unpleasant for him either. 

“Relax, it’s easier that way,” the sorceress noticed how he had to get used to the sensation, “get to your hands and knees,” she ordered, vibrant and clearly enjoying the game and her role in it.

Geralt had to be careful to keep the finger in place as he turned, knowing the woman did not like disobedience, especially in bed. Currently, she took her enjoyment from smoothing over and grabbing at his shapely, lovely bottom, a pleasant pastime as she positioned him to push the cheeks further apart. “What are you waiting for?” She prompted Jaskier impatiently by squeezing his cock teasingly, then letting go. Just because she was in generous mood, in didn’t mean she would tolerate waiting.

The bard squirmed, overwhelmed. He would never dare to openly oppose her. Of course he would have preferred Geralt only if he would have had the chance to choose, but having intimate moments with the beauty that was Yennefer was nothing to sneeze at. His manhood reacted to her touch accordingly, gorging to a size he did not remember ever to have achieved before despite his frequent promiscuous activities. It was hard to take it all in, especially the look of that bare ass up in the air. The Witcher in a submissive position excited him to no end and he found himself reaching towards it, drawn to it. Jaskier thought reservedly about how Geralt would react to him actually doing something about his desire and yet his cock already made the decision. Yennefer must have been on the same train of thought because she pulled him closer to the object of his desire, seemingly only to crash her lips against his surprisingly eagerly. The unexpectedness of it however was overshadowed by the feel of her breasts bouncing against him, nipples just as erect as their manhoods. 

Jaskier would have never considered not letting a woman like the sorceress dominate the encounter. Taken aback, he allowed her to explore his mouth wildly, the true meaning of experiencing the lilac and gooseberry aroma only just dawning on him. Almost without having noticed in the heat of the moment, Jaskier had been manoeuvred against Geralt’s bottom, his cock grinding against the Witcher’s balls. Geralt did not have a fever, not anymore and yet he was emanating heat, pushing his back side against his two bedfellows, desperate to be given attention. 

The younger man slammed his manhood against the Witcher’s bottom cheeks on impulse, nowhere near inside him, but filling a certain need. Still not certain whether he was allowed in, Jaskier moved his hips in circles to alleviate that very painful need. Impatient, Yennefer grabbed the bard’s bottom, pushed him assertively forward in encouragement and leaned over Geralt’s back, offering up her nipples for Jaskier again. 

This time, the bard did not hesitate to suckle and bite on them. Not wanting to ignore Geralt either, Yennefer reached for his manhood to press her thumb against the slit at the top of his cock, wet and wonderfully smooth with precum. Geralt groaned, pushing back stronger against the bodies behind him, looking for relief from whomever it was who was going to give it to him. Having been encouraged further, Jaskier angled himself to his entrance and gave it a swift, experimental thrust that had Geralt tense. Yennefer didn’t let either of them move away in panic however and soon enough, the Witcher pushed his buttocks backwards again, grinding his hips for the hope of relief. Jaskier thrust more powerfully into him in response. 

The growl that Geralt emitted was unlike a sound Jaskier had ever heard him make before, but it was definitely positive and eager, so the bard continued, deciding to throw caution out the window and go with the current flow. Jaskier pushed forward, burying his shaft more and more while Geralt fisted the covers, swept away by the unusual sensation. 

Yennefer sat back to watch them at this point, a satisfied smile playing at her lips as her eyes followed Geralt’s bouncing, hard cock. Then with a sudden determination, she manoeuvred herself under the Witcher as he stood there on his hands and knees, making his manhood now trapped between her folds and vibrating her entire loins. “Don’t you dare think of stopping,” she directed them with a hungry moan as she joined in with their rhythm, breasts tight against his sculpted abdomen. Geralt made an attempt to come down and kiss her, but it didn’t fit with the whole flow and he subconsciously gave up on it, so he strived to pleasure her with his cock instead, hard as it was while he was lost in his own pleasures. It was all so disorientating. Gentleness and ease was momentarily forgotten by both men, not that Yennefer minded.

“Oh sweet Melitele, bloody hell, I thank you!” Jaskier cried out, breathless, flushed and close to his climax. 

“I should think it is I who you should thank, actually,” Yennefer reluctantly found the drive to drag herself away from bodily sensations and respond verbally.

“Yes, yes, of course, I’m sorry, undeniably, I forgot to thank you,” the bard panicked enough to worry about the sorceress’ reaction at his silly outburst. 

“Go deeper,” Geralt ordered him hoarsely, breathlessly, not very happy with the interruption. 

Jaskier slapped himself back, as far in as possible, but Yennefer also had queries, “go faster,” she demanded more of their attention too, hanging on tight. The bard remained relentless on the request, making them both move with an accelerated rhythm. Geralt somehow found the presence of mind to kiss her this time amongst the intense and unusual bodily sensations his back side experienced.

“This was not a bad idea after all, huh?” Yennefer teased his reaction to his new adventure, pushing her hips up to receive more of his hilt too, her black locks sprawling out in every direction.

“Mmm, fuck.” Geralt shivered with the multifold of sensations breathlessly, still raptured. 

“That is the idea exactly, lover,” the sorceress laughed at his word choice. 

“I’m going to lose it!” Jaskier blurted out his roar in warning as his riding became more erratic and out of his control, “oh holy Melitele, I love you both for this experience!” He squirmed, hanging onto Geralt’s hips, trying to push in as far as he could once more.

Geralt barely had control of his vocal chords but he moaned, “don’t stop, go on!” He wanted to feel more, longer.

“I’m trying he..re!” The bard stuttered with the rhythm, already spilling his seed inside him, but he used the bliss induced shaking of his body to lengthen the experience. His cock softened however and started to slip out, but by this time the different sensation of his belly full with the poet’s cum was playing on Geralt’s senses. It was somewhere between pleasant and unpleasant and made him maddeningly overflown with desire. He was certainly not finished with the encounter and neither was Yennefer. Reaching out round the Witcher’s thigh, she grabbed hold of the bard’s cock and squeezed round the hilt, clutching it intensely and moving the foreskin up and down till his manhood hardened some more again. “Come on, come on!” She urged the boys for action, lips right by Geralt’s ear as she rawred, then teased the sensitive skin there with her tongue repeatedly. 

The grey wolf moaned when Jaskier filled his intestines again with his surprisingly huge cock. Together with the amount of hot cum that was already filling him, it was quite the push. He cried out as it felt like the singer was reshaping his insides, pushing the cum further up with each thrust and he didn’t quite think that was possible before. His butthole tightened on instinct and then he spilled his own seed, senses confused to the extent of it being dizzying. He buried his face in Yennefer’s shoulder and closed his golden eyes, looking for comfort and lucidity, but the balls slapping his own didn’t allow for any moment of release despite having cummed. It appeared that Yennefer knew what she was doing exactly. His cock spasmed and he felt needy and weak as if he would have been locked in a fight with a monster for several hours. 

Yennefer embraced him and stroked his hair soothingly, sensing his frustration. His belly stretched, full and again, it was somewhere between desirable and uncomfortably distended. Maybe the experience would be better if he was completely healthy and at peak performance. Jaskier got his courage together, reached out to run his palms over Geralt’s nipples and sped up, making the warrior even more desperate for relief. Twitching, Geralt held his breath, trying to ride out the overload of sensations that had him see nothing and his mind reeling. He could not be beaten by a little sex, talented Witcher as he was, could he? To add to the insult, he felt Jaskier starting to squirt some more of his seed into him, what felt like pints of thick cum wearing down his belly, yet he knew it could not have been much. It hurt so good. His cock was caressed too, Yennefer and Jaskier sharing his balls. 

Geralt shook his head from side to side like a bull, whimpering from the intensity of it all. He couldn’t speak or move and before he knew it, he cummed again himself without any effort or control on his part. He was milked till there was no more and then Jaskier slid whatever amount of it he held in his palm and pushed it into Geralt’s bumhole to add to his fullness. The Witcher leaned into the touch, liking how he was petted from all sides. Rocking back and forth helped taking advantage of both sets of hands. “Don’t you let him leak,” Yennefer peaked round at Jaskier again with a little shake of the head. 

“And how am I supposed to do that without a plug at hand,” the bard looked around for something to use, however while using his hand instead of a plug for now. 

Yennefer waved a hand, “it’s done magically already, you don’t have to worry about it anymore now.”

Geralt wanted to object at not even being asked whether he wanted to be plugged or not, but Yennefer’s particularly firm stroke of his shaft shut him up. All thought processes were also hindered by the teasing fingernail marking his manhood, also in between pain and pleasure. He was just a mindless jellyfish, shaking and stretched to his limits, so far gone that he wanted to cry out. He had never been pushed this far to the edge in his entire, busy sexlife. Geralt tried to catch his breath, relax with conscious intent, but despite his meditation training, the bodily sensations were too fervent to allow him to do so. “Please..do something..mercy...” He begged, the head of his cock so sensitive it made him jump. He could not take it anymore. Cumming did nothing, the agitation remained. Yennefer moved to swirl and curl her tongue around his nipples all the same, his cock ached even though it was dubious he could produce any more seed and his brain was accosted with too many signals again. 

“Yes, you’re mine forever,” Yennefer stated the obvious as she tasted him and licked along his scars. It increased the sense of eroticism some more, as if it was needed.

Geralt was momentarily distracted by his sensitive cock rubbing against the bed and he groaned, only wondering for a mere moment if his love for the witch had been a wise choice. It was also the exact moment that Jaskier chose to slide his fingers inside him and hit his prostate, the magical plug still letting things in, but not out. Jaskier seemed good at that too, curling his fingers just the right way and knowing where to rub round. He must have had experience. “Fuck, no,” Geralt’s deep, husky voice resonated through them as he squirmed breathlessly, cock hardening again with visible trembles. The bard was full of surprises still. Geralt didn’t expect it when Jaskier shoved three fingers in at once and resembling a cock, he jabbed his prostate with every well calculated thrust. The Witcher didn’t know whether to hiss or to groan so he just alternated between them. It was a phenomenal and loopy feeling at the same time like he was drugged and his head was in the clouds. When did he get so helpless. 

With her eyes glazed, it was clear that Yennefer liked watching him struggle with the sensations. But she held onto him firmly for his sake this time, grounding him, “are you alright?” 

“I need some rest..” Geralt panted, head lolling.

Jaskier’s hand retreated immediately and they both collapsed to roll beside Yennefer. Geralt gasped and drew a hand to his lower stomach. Falling down, he had forgotten how full he was with cum. The liquid shook inside him, the bulk of it hitting his prostate on its own with every vibration till it settled, “hmmm, fuck.” But instead of trying to relax, he pulled his legs up, making the pressing sensation harder, a part of him intent on continuation. It made his head swing from side to side and his breath rugged. 

“Are you alright, darling?” Yennefer repeated with her mouth twitching worriedly, as the way he moved, from the outside, the Witcher looked like he was in pain. 

“Y..eah…yeah,” Geralt could do nothing but stammer and shiver vigorously. 

“I could write ballads of this! The ballad of love..because I love you..” It slipped out of Jaskier with a smile in the heat of the intimacy’s afterglow. 

“Hmm, I know,” Geralt acknowledged, which was miraculous and more than he ever did, “but next threesome, I’m taking more of the control,” he tested the waters, especially as Yennefer was concerned.

“There is a next time?” Jaskier was elated as the sorceress looked at him suggestively, “great! When?” Nobody could say he wasn’t eager.

The End.


End file.
